Rebel Prince (The Coalition Rebellion Novels Book 3)

by Justine Davis

  “So you’re the one who broke in and stole my lingberry liquor,” Wystan, who had run the distillery before becoming their armorer, said.

  “We were exploring,” the boy protested. “We just happened across the vat.”

  “And it likely made you sick,” Wystan said. “It was nowhere near ready.”

  The boy grimaced at the memory. The others laughed then. And Rina suddenly realized she had seen this boy before. The night they had gone to the meeting of the watchers, he had darted out of that building, the old woman screaming after him. He clearly hadn’t curbed his wandering habits.

  “The cellar,” Tark prompted, “where is it?”

  Rina had already guessed, and she thought Tark probably had too, but he wasn’t going to deprive the boy of his moment. She loved him all the more for that.

  “Under the mayor’s house. Under the kitchen. It’s full of wine and spirits.”

  “Well, that fits,” Crim said dryly.

  “I have been in that kitchen,” Wystan said. “There was no door except to the state room that I saw.”

  “Get him back in here,” Tark ordered, and three men instantly sprang to do his bidding. The mayor was protesting vigorously, as if he thought he was being brought back so that Tark could make good on his threat.

  “Your cellar,” Tark said as the man cowered before him.

  The man gave him a blank look. “What? I have no—”

  “Do not try my patience. How do you access it?”

  The mayor glanced around, saw nothing of support, and answered weakly. “There is a hidden door, behind a cupboard. And a hatchway outside, for deliveries, but only the taproom keeper knows of it.”

  “Afraid the masses might raid your wine, Bratus?” Crim said in disgust.

  Tark turned back, and knelt to put himself at eye level with the child. “And you know where this outside entrance is?”

  The boy nodded. “But it’s covered up with rubble now. From the explosions.”

  Rina could almost feel Tark’s mind racing, yet he kept his focus on the boy, who was practically glowing that he had his full attention.

  “And you have an idea about that?” Tark asked.

  Again the boy nodded, excitedly this time. “I think those skalworms don’t even know it’s there.”

  Tark nodded, giving the boy a slow smile that lit the young face with pride. The boy cared nothing for Tark’s scar, knew only that he was the hero of Galatin and it was the most exciting thing in his young life to be acknowledged by him. Rina could have hugged him. Or both of them.

  “The best way to deal with the Coalition beast is to take the head,” Tark said. “They are lost without it.”

  “And that head will be in the mayor’s mansion,” Rina said. “Taking the best for himself, because that is what they do.”

  “Yes. Wystan, I need every bit of nitron you can spare, and then a little more. Fused and ready. Crim, you’re with me,” Tark said, his tone brisk. He looked at the men across the table. “I’ll need one more, if there’s anyone willing from your ranks.”

  Bratus Onslow, Rina noticed, cringed backward. She nearly laughed at him. Would have, aloud, were the situation not so grim. This was, after all, the man who had left Tark to die in the mountains. Were it up to her, he would not be allowed to breathe the same air. In truth, if it were up to her, he would not be allowed to breathe.

  “I’m with you,” she said.

  He turned to look at her. Shook his head. “You must stay. You will be in charge here during this mission.”

  Her hackles went up instantly. But before she could speak, he put a hand on her arm and took her aside.

  “It is not to protect you,” he said quietly, so the others would not hear, “although I will not deny that is my strongest desire. But someone will need to rally them, should we not succeed. You were at my side in that first battle for Galatin, long ago, and you fought with Dax. They will follow you.”

  She hated it, but saw the sense of it. She thought of telling him she should go in his place and he stay here for those same reasons, but she knew it wasn’t in him. She knew this man down to the bone, and he would never keep himself safe while sending others into danger.

  And she did not allow herself to think about the grim truth buried in that phrase, “should we not succeed.” That if they did not, it would mean he was dead. In truth, this time.

  But there would be no moving him, she could see it in his expression, in the set of his jaw. “You will come back. I am not about to lose you again,” she ordered, her own jaw set.

  He stared at her for a moment. “You will be fine, I want you to believe that. Better perhaps, if I don’t—”

  “Looking for another slap? You once said what we want to believe does not change the truth. And you know the truth, Bright Tarkson.”

  For a moment she let it all shine in her eyes, her face. She saw it register, even as she saw his doubt. She would wipe that doubt away, she thought. She would find the way to prove to him that he was not just more than worthy of her complete love, that he already had it.

  She saw him take in a deep breath. He opened his mouth then closed it again, as if he could find no words. Since this was neither the time nor the place, she would take that as sign enough.

  The chatter in the room was rising, and they turned back to the others.

  “I’ll go,” Rayden said eagerly running up to them.

  Tark looked at the boy. “I will need you to show us this entrance. But then you must come back,” he said. When the boy looked crestfallen, he added with a gesture at her. “She will need a lieutenant. I think you have earned that.”

  Put in that light, the boy perked up.

  “I am an old man,” Ardek said, “but my grandson here shames me.” Rina’s glance flicked from the old man to the boy; she hadn’t realized they were related. Rayden stood taller as he went on. “I have not stood by you as I should have, but I would join you, if you’ll have me.”

  Tark met the man’s gaze across the holo table. “You held fast in the last battle for Galatin, Ardek. I would be honored to have you again.”

  “The honor is mine,” the old man said with a slight bow of his head.

  She silently thanked the old man as Tark nodded in turn. He picked up his weapons from the table behind him. Then he turned back to Rina. For a moment he simply looked at her, as if to commit her to memory.

  The reality that she could indeed lose him so soon after finding him again struck her anew. Ignoring the others, she stretched up and kissed him. And this time there was no hesitation in him as he kissed her back, fiercely. Claim, declaration, and maybe good-bye were all tangled in that single kiss, and it left her shaken when at last he ended it.

  His good eye closed for a moment. She saw him draw in a deep breath.

  He turned to the boy.

  “Rayden, lead on.”

  The boy whirled and ran.

  “And we,” Crim said with a grimace as he picked up his own long gun, “shall endeavor to keep up.”

  Tark grinned at the man, and suddenly it was as if it were all those years ago. He looked to her in that moment as young and daring—and foolhardy—as he had then, and the eye patch merely underscored the demeanor.

  The hero of Galatin was back.

  DAX LET OUT a string of curses he hadn’t uttered in an age.

  He paced the bridge of the Evening Star, every muscle tense. They had been enjoying being in flight again when word had come that Tark’s guesses had been all too accurate, and the Coalition attack had begun. Even ever-cool Califa had let out a curse worthy of her past days.

  And somewhere on Arellia were three of the people they loved most. Including the daughter Dax was terrified he would lose before they had the chance to mend the breach between the
m.

  “She will be fine.”

  His mate’s soft, husky voice came from behind him, as her hand came to rest on his shoulder. Her touch, her very presence soothed him like nothing else, but this was the worst thing they had faced since the tribunal when they had first made it back to Trios.

  “You are so calm,” he said.

  “Because worrying will not get us there any faster.”

  “Well, something should,” he muttered. He crossed to the control console and slapped at the intercom link.

  “Larc!”

  “I’m trying, Captain. If I divert power from any more systems, it will take time to get them back on line.”

  “Then we’ll do without them.”

  “Er . . . life support?”

  “Narrow it to the bridge and you. Everybody’s at those stations already anyway.”

  “What about weapons? They’ll have to charge back up—”

  “Then we’ll fight with hand weapons. None of it will matter if we don’t get there before the Coalition wipes them out.” Frustrated rage had made his voice sharp, almost vicious. “Sorry, Larc.”

  “We love them too, Dax,” the engineer said, forgoing the rank.

  “I know.”

  “Comm coming in!” Rox called out.

  Dax turned to look at his first mate. “Arellia?”

  The grizzled veteran shook his head. “The king, Captain.”

  Dax nodded. Rox hit a switch, and Dare’s voice echoed across the bridge.

  “We’re airborne with a full squadron. The second is fueling now, and the third assembling. What we have left will remain here, on alert, in case the Coalition is planning a second attack on Trios.”

  “Good.” He opened his mouth to ask if there was any news from Arellia, but stopped himself, realizing Dare would tell him if there were.

  “We’re getting bits and pieces. Latest credible information on the Coalition forces is on its way in a burst file. It looks bad, but not insurmountable.”

  “If we can damned well get there,” Dax muttered.

  “Dax?”

  The queen’s voice came through then, and Dax braced himself. “Here.”

  “We got a hand keyed-in burst message from Rina. She found them.”

  “Then they’re together?”

  “They were. It’s from some time ago. She was still on the mountain, so it had to be relayed.”

  Something in Shaylah’s voice warned him. “And?”

  “They were heading back to the city. Quickly.”

  It hit him like a blow. “Because the attack had begun.”

  “Yes. They should be there now.”

  He swore, a particularly pungent oath. Then collected himself. “Sorry. That wasn’t aimed at you.”

  “I assumed,” Shaylah said.

  For a queen, she was a damned good sport, he thought, not for the first time.

  As a mother, she had to be as worried as he was.

  “We’re locking down to emergency systems only,” he said. “Diverting all power to the engines. We’ll be out of touch.”

  “Understood.” It was Dare again this time. “Tark is holding Galatin. And he will hold until you get there. He must.”

  “He will,” Dax said, meaning it. If it was possible, Tark would do it. “We’ll be there before dawn. Somehow.”

  “If anyone can, you and the Evening Star can. Dax?”

  “Here.”

  There was a pause before Dare said, in a voice Dax had not heard in a long time, “Never mind. You know.”

  Dax swallowed tightly. “Yes. I do.”

  For a long moment after they signed off, Dax stood, staring out the viewport into the vastness outside. For years he lived in this world, on this ship’s forerunner, living the crazed life of a skypirate, taking wild chances, risking everything with the slimmest chance of victory, sometimes an even slimmer chance of survival. He’d grown more cautious since. Being responsible for the protection of Trios—and becoming a parent—had accomplished what nothing else had.

  But there was no such thing as caution now. Everything he held dear was at stake, and there would be no holding back.

  Chapter 45

  RINA PACED THE floor. Her internal clock told her they had been gone less than an hour, but still she was restless.

  The council had retreated, apparently content once more with sitting back and letting Tark do their fighting. Some she forgave, they were old, tired. Others she knew had fought the last time to save their city, and she gave them some leeway as well. But the others, the younger, strong ones who seemed either bewildered or afraid or simply unwilling, she had little patience for and had thrown out of the room.

  Rayden, who had come back as Tark had ordered, although clearly reluctantly, she asked to stay.

  “You’re the only sensible and brave one among them,” she told him after the room had cleared.

  The boy straightened proudly. “What shall I do?”

  “First, report. Was there any trouble?”

  He shook his head, an expression of wonder coming over his face. “Nobody heard a thing, even when they moved the rubble. Tark can move like a whisperbird.”

  “He can,” she agreed.

  “And after I showed them the steps up into the house, he lifted me back up out of the cellar like I was no heavier than a perla.”

  “And a perla you are, Rayden. Amid snailstones.”

  The boy grinned. “They’re going to do it. I know they are.”

  “If it can be done, Tark will do it.”

  The boy studied her for a moment. “Is it true you flew with Dax? When he was a skypirate?”

  “I did.”

  That earned her widened eyes and an awed expression.

  “And you fought with him, and with Tark here, before I was even born?”

  “That too,” she agreed with a smile at his innocent wonderment. She doubted there would be much innocence left on Arellia when this was over. But she was silently thankful to this boy’s parents—or perhaps his grandfather—for teaching him what so many others here chose to ignore.

  “No wonder Tark picked you.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You’re both heroes. You should be together.”

  She studied the boy in turn. “Did he . . . say something to you?”

  Rayden drew himself up proudly. “That he was trusting me. That I would be guarding the most important thing in his life. The only person he loves.”

  Had there been a chair handy she would have collapsed into it. Instead she had to lean on the table when her knees suddenly seemed reluctant to hold.

  Leave it to Tark, she thought. Only he could manage to deliver a declaration of love, and the first one at that, in the middle of a war and through a child.

  She would make him pay for that one. She buried all thought of the danger he was in, refused to even acknowledge any longer that he might not return from this foray. Instead she focused on just how she would make him pay.

  And how she would wring that declaration from him face-to-face.

  When it came, the explosion rocked the Council Building even though the mayor’s home was at least two blocks away.

  She heard shouts—some laced with fear, others triumph—coming from the chamber outside, where those who sheltered here were gathered. She wondered if any of them would find the courage to fight now. Perhaps. If she had learned nothing else from her skypirate days with Dax, it was that there was a vast array of types spread across the galaxy, from coward to hero. It did seem, she thought rather sourly, that there were many more of the former than the latter.

  But Kateri was with them, and speaking. Rallying them in her own way, so perhaps they would hold. They all knew n
ow she had been right all along, and it gave her credence with them. Or should.

  Rina resumed her pacing as the minutes ticked past. And then it began. The communicator crackled nonstop with reports from districts all over the city.

  “They’re retreating!”

  “They just stopped!”

  “They scattered, going all directions!”

  “It’s as if they don’t know what to do.”

  Rina looked at Rayden. The boy looked back at her. He was quick to realize.

  “They did it!” he yelped. “It’s like Tark said, they’re lost without someone thinking for them.”

  She winked at him. “Indeed, Lieutenant.”

  He whooped, and ran around the room in high spirits he couldn’t contain.

  “And,” Rina added, grinning as she watched, “let’s not forget your part in this. They couldn’t have done it without you.”

  That brought on another noisy circuit. She wouldn’t be completely happy until Tark was back, safe, but this was very, very sweet.

  The noise outside was increasing. Kateri had a communicator out there, so they had heard as well.

  The door to the tactical room crept open.

  “Is it true?” the mayor squeaked. “They’ve done it? It worked?”

  “It did. The Coalition troops are panicking, running scared. You know something about that, don’t you, Bratus?”

  The man flushed. “I am a man of peace now, not war.”

  She looked at him. Her mouth twisted into a sour half smile. She wondered how he had managed to get to this position after Tark’s survival and return had shown him for what he was, a coward who would abandon those he was responsible for. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was not responsible for a lot of the ill-treatment Tark had borne.

  “You’re not a friend of the senior Tarksons, by chance, are you?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” she said.

  “My home,” he began.

  The whining in his voice grated, and Rina whirled on him. “I hope it’s a pile of rubble.”